


Battle Scars

by ZoeBug



Series: JeanMarco Week 2015 [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, JeanMarco Week, M/M, Trans Character, Trans Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4233117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeBug/pseuds/ZoeBug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But yours are gonna be battle scars, Jean. They'll mean: Look how far you made it. They'll mean: I'm still here and my life is worth living." </p><p>Jean gets nervous the night before his top surgery. Marco helps him. Like always.</p><p>--</p><p>Written for JeanMarco Week 2015 - Day 4: Warrior</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JeanMarco Week 2015 - Day 4: Warrior
> 
> lbr here, there isn't enough Trans!Jean in the world.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," Marco remarks. His fingers are rubbing slow, grinding circles into the knotted up mess of Jean's shoulders and back around the straps of his tank top.

It's a near-nightly routine for the two of them.

"Am I?" Jean asks softly then lets out a half-hiss, half-moan as Marco hits a particularly tight knot around the side of one shoulder blade.

"Mhm. You okay?"

"Just... nervous," Jean mutters the words and the pressure of Marco's hands lessen. One flattens out against Jean's back, sliding in wide, soothing motions across the skin. The other slides around Jean's front to settle across his collar bone.

"About tomorrow?" Jean nods, his hand coming up to clasp around Marco's wrist. Marco plants a soft kiss against Jean's jaw and nuzzles against the side of his head, smiling when he feels one in the movement of Jean's cheek. "It's going to go great, love."

"I just feel like I should be more excited. I mean, I totally am, I'm just..." He trails off in a frustrated exhale.

"Hey, it's natural to feel nervous," Marco comforts. He shifts his legs under him so Jean's now between his legs, back to his chest, arm still around him. "It still is surgery, after all. It doesn't mean anything, if that's what you're worrying about."

Jean doesn't reply for a moment.

"Maybe," he finally mutters before sighing. "How do you get in my head like that?" Marco grins.

"We've been together for four years. How could I not be?" Marco can't see but he can tell Jean's rolling his eyes. "I know you, Jean. I know how much you want this. I know how much this will help you. Think about how much easier things'll get. Working out without the whole sports-bra issue? Swimming with your shirt off?"

"Taking a bath without crying halfway through," Jean adds, his voice laced with dark humor but Marco takes it as the sign of progress it is.

"We can take them _together_." Marco grins against Jean's ear. "And showers. No more backaches from your binders, either."

"Oh _no,_ " Jean replies in mock-dramatic despair. "No more of your backrubs?"

"I'll still give you backrubs, you adorable idiot," he replies. "Just more because I wanna make you feel good and less because your back aches too much to sleep."

Jean lets out a sigh that sounds much more relaxed than before.

"Thanks, Marco. I'm just working myself up again." Marco presses another kiss to his cheek.

"You're my boyfriend, it's my job. I'm just glad I could help." Jean's shoulders relax a smidge more beneath his hands.

"And you're- you're gonna be there, right?" Jean asks, his voice soft again.

"The whole time," Marco replies earnestly. "I'm going to drive you there tomorrow morning and I'll be there when you wake up. Already got some of that lotion, ah, stuff they recommended for the scars."

"Mmm, hot," Jean teases. "Rubbing lotion on my scars. Bet I'm gonna look real sexy with those things."

"Chicks dig scars."

"I'm not after chicks."

"Good thing I happen to think scars are pretty great, myself."

"You don't-" That hesitation and vulnerability is back in Jean's voice again. "You don't have to pretend to like them if you don't. Or anything else."

Marco sighs and lets out a fond, exasperated laugh, retracting his arms from around Jean in order to slide around him on the bed so they're now sitting face to face.

"I don't _pretend_ to like anything about you. You're my Jean. My boyfriend. The love of my life." Marco reaches between them to take Jean's hands in his own. Jean keeps his eyes down, watching their hands. Marco can see the color starting to lightly dust his cheekbones. "And you're finally getting the surgery you've been wanting for years. I've _seen_ how much dysphoria gets to you. You _need_ this. You're going to be so much more comfortable in your own skin after this."

Jean shrugs minutely, eyes still not meeting Marco's, but his fingers tighten around those laced with his.

"So you'll have scars," Marco continues. "So what? Lots of people do. But yours are gonna be battle scars, Jean. They'll mean: Look how far you made it. They'll mean: I'm still here and my life is worth living happily. How could I do anything but love them when that's what they mean?"

Jean still doesn't look up, his head hanging down between his shoulders but Marco hears him sniff wetly.

"You are so _brave_ , Jean. I know there were some times when it was really, really hard, but you kept fighting. And I am _so_ proud of you."

"Jesus, you gotta stop makin' me cry, you giant sap." Jean's words hold no bite to them, only a watery smile and a shaky laugh.

"I love you," Marco replies simply.

"Love you too, you goober." Jean squeezes his fingers and snorts. "How'd I get so goddamn lucky?"

 

That night the bedroom is dark, save for the streetlights outside filtering between the blinds. Marco lays on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching the way the slivers of light slice across Jean's sleeping form.

His head is lulled back, mouth open in the most ridiculous way, and snoring obnoxiously.

Marco just shakes his head with a soft laugh and reaches over to brush Jean's bangs off his forehead.

"I'll never understand how you think _you're_ the lucky one," he whispers as Jean mumbles lightly and his head lulls against the pillow.

Marco laughs and presses a soft kiss to Jean's forehead before laying back, his legs twined with Jean's beneath the covers.

**Author's Note:**

> [fanfic/podfic blog](http://zoe-bug.tumblr.com/) | [personal](http://xiexiecaptain.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/xiexiecaptain)


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